


I'm lost ( but I don't know why )

by manfred_stone



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Aziraphale is there to help, Crowley sometimes gets sad, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Just the right amount of angst, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, literally just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19399666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manfred_stone/pseuds/manfred_stone
Summary: Crowley's personal Apocalypse had begun the second he saw Aziraphale's bookshop on fire. It's not a good memory, and like all proper bad memories, it pops up in Crowley's head with the worst timing it could possibly have. Luckily, Aziraphale is beside him when feelings ensue, this time with a body, too.





	I'm lost ( but I don't know why )

Crowley enjoyed sleeping. He thought it was one of the most pleasurable, if not the only pleasant human activity, and he devoted at least a few hours for it every day. Never mind the fact those hours barely ever belonged to the night.

The night was meant for dark deeds only.

The only problem that came along with sleeping was the fact that he sometimes would dream. Most of the things he saw didn’t make sense, and he really didn’t care much for those, but when he dreamt of things that did make sense, such as spending a day with Aziraphale, those did affect him. Greatly. Even though he wouldn’t admit it.

He opened the dark wooden door of his apartment and held it open for Aziraphale to get in, then followed him inside.

As much as he could appreciate Aziraphale complimenting his plants and most probably annihilating all the work he’d put into them, he really just wanted to throw himself face first into his bed and sleep for a thousand days.

He turned to look at Aziraphale— he was still standing in the living room that Crowley had filled with his plants, observing them with a soft smile on his face.  
Crowley caught himself staring before Aziraphale could beat him to it. He damned himself for the way he let the angel affect him so much. His heart couldn’t really handle much of anything now, especially considering the emotional rollercoaster it had spent the day riding.

“I– Uh. The bed. You can take it, I’ll sleep on the sofa.” 

Aziraphale turned to him, eyebrows raised and a puzzled expression gracing his features. 

“Well, I don’t see why we shouldn’t share it, my dear. After all, your bed is rather big, it wouldn’t be much of a problem, and you do look rather worn out.”

Crowley blinked, once, twice, then huffed, and turned away. “Yes, okay, whatever. If you insist, angel.”

Crowley felt exposed.

Maybe he had spent too much time dwelling between humans, but he did feel the need of sleep, not just for his body, but for his mind. Being so weary couldn’t really be anything good, and he was scared he might let something slip past his lips if he wasn’t careful enough. He went too fast for Aziraphale, but sometimes even he felt his mind was going too fast for him to catch up to it. Like his Bentley, _oh God– his beloved Bentley had exploded, how could he ever replace it– would things go back to the way they were?_

Crowley rested his back against the headboard of the bed and helplessly attempted to relax, to shake the tension off his shoulders, but nothing worked.

Suddenly, the mattress shook and bent as Aziraphale sat on its edge.

It was enough for Crowley to snap out of the loophole of his thoughts. Aziraphale looked at Crowley with a small, content smile on his lips. He’d changed into something a bit more comfortable to rest, and Crowley, once again, stared.

“You aren’t going to sleep with your sunglasses on, are you, my dear?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley had barely the time to stammer out some kind of _‘no’_ before that Aziraphale reached out and gently took Crowley’s shades into his hands.  
All Crowley did for a while was stare at the sunglasses before looking up at Aziraphale. He looked at him into his blue eyes, and Aziraphale looked right back at him.

Crowley was _affected_. Aziraphale’s eyes were just so soulful, pure, every time he looked at him Crowley felt his guts twisting and curling in on themselves like a bunch of snakes. Although, there was just one snake feature Crowley worried about in that moment.

“I believe I’ve already said so, but you don’t have to keep your glasses on around me, Crowley. I really think your eyes are quite beautiful to look at.”

_When had Aziraphale scooted closer to him? Was it to look better at his eyes?_

Crowley’s cheeks burned.

“It’s- You told me.” He said, somehow willing his voice not to tremble like he feared it would do. He snatched the glasses out of Aziraphale’s hand, their fingers touching did not go unnoticed, and rested them on the bedside table.

“Well. Big day ahead tomorrow, time to get some shut-eye, angel.”

In the hopes of avoiding discorporation, since he felt like Aziraphale could somehow cause him an heart-attack in the state he was currently in, Crowley snapped his fingers and the lights turned off, then he turned his back to Aziraphale and pulled the covers all the way up to his nose.

“Goodnight, Crowley.” Aziraphale said. Some rustling of the sheets followed his words as he lay down, and then silence swallowed the room.

Crowley found it surprisingly hard to fall asleep, even despite his exhaustion. He turned to lie on his back, then on his side, and finally, he faced Aziraphale.  
He seemed to be asleep. Some of the white strands of hair that usually curled backwards had fallen over his forehead. Crowley reached out and brushed them off his forehead. His fingers trailed down the angel’s face before stopping to cup his cheek. He was really warm.

The serpent part of him just wanted to slide between his arms and let Aziraphale’s warmness soak into his old bones. The rest of him just wanted Aziraphale to hold him. There was no escaping such thoughts.

His heart raced inside his chest as Crowley lowered his hand, fingers hovering carefully over Aziraphale’s. He settled for letting the side of his hand touch the angel’s as he set it beside his.

He sighed.

Even as he slept, Aziraphale still affected him, and Crowley thought it wasn’t fair for him to feel like that, because in their millenary friendship, Aziraphale always stepped back whenever Crowley tried to take a step beyond the friendship line.

He went too fast for Aziraphale. Crowley had no idea how to slow himself down. He just had to let the small touches suffice, he had to let Aziraphale’s smiles to him be enough, but Crowley wanted more, he wanted to let his hands roam over Aziraphale’s body freely, he wanted to kiss him, he wanted to...

He wanted to be able to show him what he felt. Somehow, he had restrained himself so far, but spending so much time with Aziraphale in the latest decade, spending an entire week seeing him every day until he—

**_“I can’t find you!”_** He remembered it vividly. He’d never hated fire with such a passion.  
  
**_“For somebody’s sake where are you!”_** It still hurt. The ghost of the painful knot in his throat forced him to let out a shaky breath. And then a cold wave of realization had washed over him, much like the sudden burst of water that broke the window and hit him in the chest.

 ** _“You’ve gone.”_** Saying it out loud made it even worse. His eyes stung, and he wasn’t sure whether it was because of the smoke or something else. His sunglasses had been thrown somewhere into Crowley’s personal Hell, and he was exposed, his tears, his pain and his anger were so clearly painted on his face.

 ** _“Somebody killed my best friend!”_** He pushed himself up, gaze still somehow scanning the flames, still hoping Aziraphale could show up at any moment to prove him wrong. But Aziraphale didn’t, and Crowley was alone in those flames. Lost.

He always found Aziraphale, he always did his best to help him whenever he needed it. Crowley was quite sure there was no need for him to help Aziraphale, he could have easily saved himself, but he always did it anyway because Crowley needed to see him.

He had to find him, but he couldn’t feel his presence anywhere on Earth.

Someone had dared lay a hand on Aziraphale, someone was responsible for what had happened, someone was going to pay.

Crowley gritted his teeth, bared them at the fire as some flames licked at him. **_“Bastards! All of you!”_**

He jolted awake.

Somehow, between that reminiscence and his exhaustion, he must have fallen asleep, but his mind had kept his thoughts going in the form of a nightmare. He was crying, just like he’d been crying at the shop, and his throat still felt tight and vulnerable, unstable– _anything_ could have caused him to break down. 

“Crowley?” 

His heart sunk into his chest.

He slowly turned to see Aziraphale propped up on his elbow, looking at him, his eyes filled with concern.

“What happened?” 

Crowley wanted to answer, he stammered and then choked on air as he tried not to let himself go. His shoulders already quivered with his sobs, and just like that he crumpled in on himself. Whatever dignity he felt like he still held vanished more with every tear striking down his cheeks, with every pain-filled whine. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale repeated, sitting up. He was confused to say the least, and worried to his very core. He immediately got closer to him, wrapped his arms around his trembling frame as Crowley desperately held onto his waist. As carefully as possible, Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair, while his other hand rubbed circles into his back.

“Oh dear, oh dear...” He whispered.

“I thought- I–” Crowley whimpered. “In the shop– It burned, and I thought you were dead, angel!”

The demon pressed his face into Aziraphale’s neck, taking a big gasping breath and felt his scent envelope him completely.

“Crowley, I’m here...” Aziraphale cooed, adjusting his grip so he could hold him even closer.

Aziraphale thought about what state he’d found Crowley in as soon as he’d managed to return to Earth. To say he looked distressed would have been a euphemism. Crowley had been so affected by his ‘death’, and Aziraphale hadn’t even realized that he was talking about him when he said he had lost his best friend. He knew Crowley cared about him, he’d admitted to being friends with Aziraphale once or twice, but Aziraphale could never have thought Crowley would cry for him. 

He felt the love surrounding him, _surrounding them._

_Of course he loved Crowley._

Aziraphale was a being of love, and he was used to loving without it ever being returned. It was a great part of what he did, he loved, and he loved, though he wasn’t supposed to pour his love onto Crowley, a demon from Hell. He couldn’t help himself, really. Crowley made it so easy, being such a wonderful being, so smart and somehow caring as well, even though he didn’t like to show that part of himself.

Aziraphale had grown used to the demon’s presence in his life on Earth, looking forward to every time his path would cross Crowley’s.

He couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment he began loving Crowley, all the memories of their time together always sparked happiness in him; although he knew he’d realized he longed for something deeper than friendship after Crowley had entered holy ground to help him, to prevent his discorporation, and moreover, he had saved his books. Crowley knew how much he adored his books, and he’d intentionally miracled them to be safe from the explosion.

Ever since then, Aziraphale found himself thinking about Crowley more often than he’d like to admit.

He knew love was nothing to be ashamed of, but he also knew that neither of their sides would have been happy about it, and moreover, Crowley most likely didn’t share the same feelings.

He quietly dealt with it himself, and for a few decades it worked, until the Apocalypse brought them together once more. While they worked together to save the world they loved, spending so much time together, Aziraphale began feeling restless. The more time they spent together, the more Aziraphale thought about him, the more days he longed for him.

During that faithful week, Aziraphale had even begun sensing love around him, but he associated it with the areas they were travelling through, and never to Crowley himself.

It turned out, Aziraphale might have been mistaken.

The same love he’d felt around him during that week had come back, stronger, and it all came from Crowley.

Aziraphale gently cupped Crowley’s cheeks.

“Crowley, _darling_.”

Crowley’s eyes flickered open. Some tears still escaped him, but Aziraphale quickly wiped them away. 

“I am right here, and we’re together, aren’t we?”

Crowley nodded.

Aziraphale leant in to peck his forehead, but Crowley moved closer and pressed his lips on Aziraphale’s. It was quick, chaste, definitely not the kiss one would expect from a demon, but it was the kiss Aziraphale expected from Crowley. 

“Angel, I—“ Crowley said as soon as he pulled back. Aziraphale kissed him again, interrupting him as the rest of the sentence died in his throat.

With a content sigh, Crowley kissed him back, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s neck. It felt like pure bliss, warm and comfortable, and the feeling completely enveloped them both.

Soon, _too soon_ , Aziraphale parted from him. For a few seconds, they rested one against the other, the silence between them unbroken. A small smile tugged the corners of Crowley’s lips. Crowley decided that, just for once, he’d let it show.

“Well, _that_ happened.” Crowley chuckled.

“It happened, indeed.” Aziraphale’s hands dropped down to his chest and then he rested his head on his shoulder.

Crowley enjoyed their closeness for a while. It had been thousands of years ever since he’d begun wanting to be this close to Aziraphale, and now that it had finally happened, he was going to make the most out of it. By trying not to cry again.

“I thought I went too fast for you.” Crowley said, after a while. There was a single, very small hint of sadness in his voice. Aziraphale’s fingers intertwined with his and Crowley looked at their hands tangled together. 

“You go very fast, my dear. I— I believe I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to catch up to you, when I said that.” He looked up at him. “But now I know I want to catch up. I will do my very best.”

Crowley sighed. “Oh, angel. Took you long enough, didn’t it?”

They settled back down in the bed; Crowley lay between Aziraphale’s arms as the angel ran his fingers down his arm.

“If Heaven and Hell really are planning something for us, tomorrow— then... I think I’m spending my last hours well.” _In his own personal Heaven_ , Crowley thought. 

“It will be alright. All of Agnes Nutter’s prophecies have been extremely accurate, after all.”

“Yes, but still. Don’t make me say it– it’s... being with you is...” Crowley’s cheeks turned rosier, and moreover his eyes couldn’t lie. His pupils had dilated enough for Aziraphale to understand it was a symptom of Crowley’s affection towards him.

“Being with you is wonderful, Crowley.” He finally managed to kiss Crowley’s forehead. Crowley didn’t mind it one bit, although, he still preferred kisses on the lips.

Crowley plastered himself to Aziraphale, rested his head in the crook between his shoulder and his neck, then swung an arm around his chest. Aziraphale held such warmth, and Crowley simply reveled in it. 

“Darling— is it comfortable enough for you? I could miracle another blanket if you're feeling cold."

Crowley involuntarily hissed. " _'sss fine_. You're definitely warm enough."

His tiredness, mixed with the comfortable warmth of Aziraphale lying next to him, had a very relaxing effect on Crowley. It was enough for him to begin yawning and for his eyelids to feel quite heavy. He barely even noticed Aziraphale leaning in to kiss his forehead once again before turning off all the lights.

Crowley had no more nightmares as long as Aziraphale slept beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! I couldn't get enough of good omens, I just had to write something for these idiots in love. title from agnes by glass animals


End file.
